


Birthday

by Haldane



Category: The Administration - Manna Francis
Genre: Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haldane/pseuds/Haldane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toreth's having a birthday party.  Warrick's present for him isn't revealed until after the guests have gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday

The party was starting to fade off; as people said their goodbyes and left, the background noise fell and conversations were interrupted, breaking the rhythm and reminding others that going home might be a good idea. Toreth wound up being stuck by the door for ages, saying goodbyes and trying to see where the hell Warrick had got to. Sure, it was his birthday party, but it was Warrick's place too and he ought to be around somewhere.

Sara was almost the last to go, although she held him there in the doorway with some rambling monologue he couldn't quite get the point of. It was Cele who finally rescued him, picking her way across the empty living room and breaking in on them.

Cele pressed up against Toreth and gave him a kiss - a pretty good one, coming from an avowed lesbian - and whispered, "Warrick's in the bedroom; he's got his present for you in there." Then she scooped Sara up with suspicious ease and they were gone.

'Warrick's in the bedroom..." It was amazing how those words set a fire going in him, even after years of fucking in every conceivable fashion. Toreth found himself strangely torn between wanting to go and see what was waiting for him, and dragging out the anticipation. At that moment, he noticed he was standing in front of the closed bedroom door and figured that settled the question.

Warrick and Cele. His idea and her composition. Even Sara's pointless conversation suddenly made sense, since they would have needed a watch on him to ensure their preparations weren't disturbed. Toreth stood there for a long moment, just looking, wanting to make sure that he would remember every detail.

Warrick was nude and chained up facing the wall. He was spread out enough that it was impossible for him to close his legs or protect any part of his body. Vulnerable, but not held too tightly, his weight on his feet so there was no need to hurry. A long strip of blood-red velvet was tied over his eyes, so that the ends fell down just past his shoulders.

The normal room lighting was off, replaced by two stands, one on each side, each holding a spiral of thirty or forty tiny candles. The little lights threw glittery reflections from Warrick's skin, and Toreth saw that his entire body had been lightly covered with oil, giving it a gleam that begged to be touched. In front of the stand on the left was another small display stand, holding a long box wrapped in silver paper.

Toreth felt all the appreciation of a master planner for the exquisitely executed setup. Cele's touch was clear to see in the scene: the balance between objects, the candles placed close enough to light the subject yet out of the way, so as not to detract from its importance. The beautiful gleam of oil must be her doing as well, yet Toreth felt not even a flicker of jealousy. Warrick would have known perfectly well that Toreth would have tolerated nobody else assisting him in making the arrangements. Cele would have approached it as an exercise in aesthetics, no more sexually involving than positioning one of her models. The erotic impact was all for him.

He stripped, slowly, never taking his eyes from the display. Warrick made no acknowledgement of his presence, waiting passively to see where Toreth wished to go. His birthday, his present, his.

Inside the box was a small whip, not much larger than a riding crop, brand new and with the unmistakable scent of real leather. Toreth picked it up and twisted and shook it a few times, settling the weight in his hand. He glanced back at the pale body glistening perfectly in the flickering light and a shudder ran the length of his spine and burned in the base of his cock.

"So this is where you've been hiding - " and he snapped the whip against Warrick's buttocks, hard enough to leave a mark, to welt without breaking the skin. " - while I've been stuck with - " another snap, " - being fucking polite to _our_ \- " snap, " - guests and saying goodbye at the door - " snap, " - like some sort of flunky." Another snap, and he stepped back to admire the pattern of red lines accenting the paleness. 

Warrick had taken the beating without visible reaction, yet he shivered when Toreth pressed full length against him, chest against back, cock pushing eagerly against curve of ass. Toreth rested his face in the join between Warrick's neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent of him, and then sinking his teeth deep enough to bruise.

Toreth felt the surge of lust rise in him, and released Warrick to step back and regain control of himself. It was too soon. He wanted to drag this out, take his time and play with the scenario he'd been given. Dropping the whip - for now - he slid between Warrick's body and the wall, the movement made easy by the lubricant on Warrick's skin. Toreth yanked the blindfold off, using his other hand to force Warrick to stare at him. Their cocks rubbed together, and Warrick moaned and leant in, but Toreth knotted a fist in his hair and jerked his head back.

"Say it."

Silence. Toreth tightened his grip on the fistful of hair, seeing the slightest grimace on Warrick's face.

"Say it. You're mine."

"I'm yours." Whispered.

Toreth felt the simple words burn in his entire body. He would never, ever have too much of hearing that. He pushed, crossing undefined lines, but this was his present, and he could break rules if he wanted. "You're mine. Not Carnac's. Not Girardin's. I want to hear to you say it." Leaving out the word _need_ , which was closer to the truth.

"I'm yours," Warrick gasped, struggling to collect his breath enough to speak. "Nobody else's. Not Carnac, or Girardin, not anybody's."

"You want me."

"Yes. You. Need- _ah_ " Warrick's voice cut off as Toreth grabbed his ass with his free hand, fingers digging into the welts and grinding their hips together. Their mouths met with bruising force, Toreth thrusting his tongue deep as Warrick yielded utterly. Warrick's whole body jerked and he screamed, coming copiously between their bodies, surprising both of them with the suddenness and intensity of his response. 

"Oh dear," Toreth said, as soon as Warrick showed some sign of recovery. He shook his head slowly in mock regret, while inside he felt positively gleeful. "I didn't say you could do that."

His present was going to be even more fun than he'd thought.


End file.
